Learning to Finish his Sentences
by red-isthenewpink
Summary: It's now six months after Fred Weasley died, not only leaving the earth but leaving his twin. George must finally come face to face with his true feelings and, with the help of Harry, decide if he's ready to reopen the shop Fred left behind.PostDH


"I'm not doing it," George answered abruptly, cutting off all requests, pleas, even downright begging.

Mrs. Weasley nodded solemnly, taking a small sip of tea and looking over at Ginny. "Didn't you say you'd be happy to help, dear?"

"Obviously!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Just shut up about it! Alright?" George got up from the table, slamming the front legs of his chair down. He removed something from his pocket that was now concealed in his fist. "I'm putting this down and walking away. It was the very last of…of _our_," He spat the last word from his lips as if it were poison.

He continued. "One of our last prototypes for Blow-Up-Your-Tongue-Bubble-Gum,"

"Oh, George that's-"

"It doesn't much matter how horrible it is anymore, does it, mum?" George asked harshly, producing a wrapped piece of what seemed to be average chewing gum on the wooden table. "Because none of it matters anymore,"

He turned out of the dining room and walked swiftly up the stairs to his bedroom.

Mrs. Weasley threw her head into her hands and sobbed openly for the first time in two months. Fred had been killed in the final battle just six months ago.

"It's-mum…it's okay," Ginny tried to console her but merely felt her own throat closing up as she heard George's retreating footsteps.

"He isn't the same," Ron spoke from the door to the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Charlie, and Percy all looked up to see him leaning against the door post with his arms folded over his chest.

"How can we-"

"Expect him to be, I know," Ron cut off Ginny as he moved into the room and took George's recently vacated seat at the table. "But it's not likely that he's ever going to open the shop again and I think we all have to accept that,"

Percy shook his head absentmindedly and Charlie sighed.

"He's never going to be the same…" Ginny laughed bitterly. "What's George without Fred? They've-they've always been together, their entire lives. Finishing each other's sentences, causing trouble…he-he doesn't know who he is anymore,"

"But that isn't true!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked, causing everyone to jump a few inches out of their seats.

Mr. Weasley took her hand. "It is true, Molly…they _have _always been a pair,"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean George doesn't have his own identity! He _needs _to know who he is…he needs to realize that he is his own person,"

The Weasley's sat in uninterrupted silence for the around ten minutes before there was a pop of someone Disapparating into the dining room.

Ron immediately jumped up with his wand in front of him as defense. When it was merely Hermione who turned gracefully, her thick curls flying about, there was a collection of small, tittering laughter that didn't meet anyone's eyes.

Ron shook his head, putting his wand back in his pocket and moving towards Hermione, his cheeks blushing. "You think I'd get used to the whole Voldemort-free world by now,"

Hermione was giggling softly.

"What?" He demanded.

"You just…" She shrugged, looking sheepish. "You looked so cute standing there with your wand at the ready and whatnot,"

"Oh shut up, Granger,"

"Gladly,"

They moved to kiss each other, but then Hermione got her wits and patted Ron on cheek. "Not the time,"

Ron sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"How is everyone?" She walked past Ron and addressed the rest of the Weasley's.

Mrs. Weasley, who had since gotten herself under a good amount of control, smiled. "Oh…we've just been talking to George again about opening up the shop,"

"Where's Harry?" Ginny asked, standing up.

"Er…he actually said he was coming over to speak to George…he's not here yet?"

Ginny shook her head.

"Then why are you here?" Ron asked.

Hermione placed her hands on her hips. "Why am I here?"

"I didn't mean it like-"

"We'll wait for Harry in your room, shall we?"

Ron cast an awkward glance towards his mother, who had started saying something to Charlie about his hair and hadn't even heard. He led Hermione upstairs.

"Hermione's so funny," Ginny mused, grinning a bit. "Before her and Ron were officially together she was always a little guarded. Now it's all-let's snog in your bedroom!"

"She didn't say that!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "Hermione's so well-mannered! Always has been,"

"Oh, yeah, they're going up there to _read_…"

"This is Hermione we're talking about, aren't we?" Percy asked. And it did seem perfectly logical for Hermione to want to read in Ron's bedroom.

"Just because you snog Harry every chance you get-" Charlie teased.

"Shut it! I do not,"

There was another sound of someone Disapparating and as if on queue, Harry appeared, a bit more clumsily than Hermione had.

"Harry, how are you dear?" Mrs. Weasley started nervously. "Er…I don't think Fred is really in a good mood-"

"Mum," Ginny cut her off as everyone stared in silence.

"What? Did I-?" Mrs. Weasley turned to Arthur, who was nodding miserably. A dry sob erupted from Mrs. Weasley and she covered her mouth. "I-I-"

"It's okay, mum," Ginny touched her hand lightly, then turned to Harry. "Maybe…maybe you _can_ talk to him?"

Harry smiled. "I hope so," And he made his way upstairs while Mrs. Weasley began to sob into Mr. Weasley's shoulder.

As he moved up to the next landing, Harry heard giggling and whispers before he saw Ron and Hermione a bit farther up near Ron's attic room.

"Ron!" She shrieked, laughing as he grabbed her by the waist. "Your mum…and…dad-"

"Come on, Hermione," He started to tickle her.

"I was planning on-" She let out a screaming giggle that bounced off the walls. Trying to lower her voice, she spoke in exasperated fragments. "Ron-I was-planning on-reading-!" She set off into another fit of giggles.

"Reading, yeah," Ron grinned.

"I was!" She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Quit it!"

"I will if you kiss me,"

"I won't!" She pushed him away lightly.

"You will, you always do,"

"I do not. I can resist you, Ronald,"

"You had a hard job of it for all these years,"

"Oh, and you didn't?"

Harry sighed, grinning a bit at their familiar bickering and knocked on George's door. Ron and Hermione were still completely unaware of his presence a landing below.

"I did, I had a very difficult time!"

"Yeah, yeah,"

"It's true, at least I admit it like a man,"

"A man," Hermione snorted. "You don't even shave,"

"Are you kidding me, Hermione? Are you being serious?"

"Ron you have never a day in your life. You are condemned to be hairless forever,"

"At least I don't have a stupid little beard like…Viktor," He said his name in a whisper as if it were a particularly nasty curse word. Harry had to swallow down his laughter as he knocked again, more loudly, on George's door.

"Oh, you better come off him before I-"

There was a shriek, a bang, and then silence.

Harry hurried up the stairs, wondering if Hermione had lost her patience and sent Ron threw the wall with a curse.

What he found, of course, was very, very different. Hermione had been pushed against the wall. Ron's hands were on either side of her head and he was kissing her passionately, as if nobody else in the world existed. Hermione, who had seemed angry before, was now pulling him closer to her.

Harry moved back down the stairs quietly, not wanting to witness anymore of this private moment. He was still getting used to the whole idea of Ron and Hermione actually being _together_. Thankfully enough, George had already opened the door and was staring up at him, his eyes blank and unresponsive.

He made his way down fully and came face-to-face with the twin who had been left behind. This was the first time they were speaking since the battle at Hogwarts; George had been shut up at the Burrow for months. According to Ginny, when he had come out about a month ago, he wasn't the same.

"Come to convince me to open shop again? Like all the others?" His voice was a horribly cold contrast to his once warm and vibrant one.

Chilling, even.

Harry looked up the landing and saw that Ron and Hermione were still kissing outside of his bedroom. Sighing, he turned back to George.

"Can I come in?"

George seemed to consider him for a moment, then moved to the side, his arm outstretched above Harry's head level, like some archway in which he had to pass under.

Looking around the room as he moved inside, Harry was hit with a frightening thought: Fred had never lived here.

It also, quite frankly, looked as if _George _didn't live here any longer.

The two beds had turned to one, moved into the middle of the wall. It was neatly adorned with a maroon blanket and pillow, the walls surrounding it bare. There were faded rectangles where assorted posters had been. A rickety old desk sat in the opposite corner of the room, but everything that had once sat atop it (papers for WWW, plans for new products, the products themselves, Harry expected) had all been swept away or discarded.

The shades were drawn, yet the sun burned behind it and cast an eerie kind of glow over the stripped room.

As Harry sat on George's bed, he noticed something green sticking out from under his pillow, but paid it no mind as not to be kicked out.

"So, are you…" Harry shook his head, knowing no pretense was necessary. "Listen, I know you don't want me to convince you of anything. You don't need convincing,"

George nodded, looking a bit confused, but still guarded. He leaned against the wall opposite Harry and watched him.

Harry cleared his throat nervously, and fiddled with the hem of the blanket. "I know you've already decided that…that it's best to close the shop. I know everything I wanted to say to you, you've already thought of before. So…" Harry shrugged, looking at him fully now, maintaining eye contact. "Can I ask you something?"

George stiffened. He had apparently not bargained for this. Keeping silent a moment more, he nodded hesitantly. "Sure…"

"What did you say to yourself?" He stood up now, keeping his eyes on George's, who were staring at him questioningly.

"What?"

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "What did you say to yourself to make it seem okay? To make you believe Fred would've wanted this?"

George seemed taken back by this sudden attack. He let his arms fall to his sides and looked off into a distant part of the room.

Harry was taken back himself by the fact that George's eyes were filling with tears. He stared off for a few moments longer and when he returned to stare, his eyes were dry. Harry thought it might have been an allusion until George spoke, and his voice was wrecked with sadness.

"I…I didn't ask myself anything," He moved to sit next to Harry and stared into his hands that rested on his legs. "How could I? If I did, I'd only hear his voice drumming through my head, 'George, don't do this. Please, don't do this. Keep it open, do it for me. Do it for both of us.'"

George shook his head. When he looked up at Harry, tears were running down his deeply freckled cheeks. For the first time, Harry saw the little bit of the old George inside those eyes.

"I know that's what he would've wanted…but what about me? Doesn't anyone…do they understand how that would be? Every single effing day I'd wake up and go to that shop and…and he wouldn't be there,"

"He would," Harry responded almost immediately, nodding. "He would be there. I'm not trying to give you false hope that it isn't going to be hard, George. Because I've lost people and I know it doesn't go away. It doesn't _ever _go away. But I also know that you and Fred shared something nobody else could _touch_. Not Voldemort, not anyone," He took a pause, watching George's hands started to tremble.

"George?"

He jumped up so abruptly that Harry hadn't even realized what was happening.

"Just…just stop it, okay? That's exactly it, don't you get it? Don't you understand? We had a connection nobody else could touch. And it's been torturing me from the very moment he died. You don't get it, Harry!" And now, despite his shock, Harry realized Fred wasn't angry at him at all. He was never angry.

He was completely, horribly, maddeningly depressed.

"This…this twin thing, it doesn't just _end _when one dies, okay? It doesn't stop…" He was trying so hard to make Harry grasp something he did not understand. "I still…" He was sobbing now, trying to speak through heart-rending cries. "I still feel like he's _here_. When I think of something funny, and it's rare these days, but when I do, I actually call out his name before I realize he's not going to answer,"

And then, he fell to the floor, his knees cracking on the wooden floor. He shook his head, agony laced through his features as he looked at Harry. "I still wait for him to finish my sentences,"

With that he had collapsed to the ground in a heap, not making a sound, his shoulders shaking miserably.

Harry moved to kneel on the ground beside him and lowered a hand to carefully touch his arm. "George," He murmured, and George looked up, still trembling.

"It's not going to go away. Never,"

George didn't stir at this; it was something he already knew.

"But you'll realize, soon enough, that it's not a curse. Soon you'll wake up, go into the shop, and you won't call for him…You'll want to, but you won't, because you've learned to know better. You've taught yourself. But it's still there," Harry swallowed thickly, willing away the tears that were now falling down his own cheeks. And it won't hurt because it'll be something you _want_. Remembering him in that way…it'll be something you have that nobody else does. Something that always connects you,"

"You make it sound nice," George murmured, sitting up. "I don't think I can believe that,"

Harry shrugged. "I know it because I know you and I know that once you've gotten over the initial shock of losing someone, you look for any way to connect to them,"

Harry thought now, of the shard of mirror that had once been Sirius' gift to him. How many times had he stared into that piece of glass, hoping for a reaction, a sign, anything at all?

Any type of connection to the other side.

Isn't that what everyone wanted, really?

And he knew, at that moment, somehow he knew that George understood. He stood up, and Harry took his lead, and followed him to the pillow on his bed.

Lifting it, George removed what seemed to be a bunch of balled up green yarn. But after unfolding it, he revealed one of Fred's Weasley sweaters. A great red 'F' donned the outside of it and Harry didn't know what to say.

"It's stupid, I know," George brought it to his chest. "It's ridiculous…to take everything out of this room and keep one completely useless keepsake,"

"It's not stupid," said Harry, and he reached around his neck, pulling out the mokeskin purse that Hagrid had given him for his seventeenth birthday. Reaching inside, he pulled out the shard of glass that remained of Sirius' present.

"You're supposed to use it to speak to another person…Sirius had the other mirror…this one's broken of course,"

"I've heard of those," George nodded, looking intently at it.

"Completely useless…doesn't change what it means to me,"

They both grinned then, understanding one another. After moments of silence that Harry couldn't count in time, George spoke.

"Shall we move downstairs, Harry? To tell the others of our wonderful epiphany?" And he sounded so much like his old self, it nearly caused Harry to laugh out loud.

"I think we shall,"

They made to walk out the door, but Harry stopped him. "Er…just let me check something,"

Craning his head outside, he saw that Ron and Hermione had disappeared from the hall. Running upstairs, he knocked swiftly on the door.

"Oi, you two are going to suck each other's brains out!"

There was a small crash as something toppled to the ground, then Hermione opened the door hurriedly.

"Oh, Harry!" She looked down, quickly straightening her jumper and smoothing her hair. "What are you…er…" She glanced inside at Ron, who had apparently fallen off the bed and was the source of the crash.

He was stumbling to his feet now, his lips swollen and his hair sticking up every which way.

"We were reading!"

"Yes, we were reading," Hermione added, as if it were necessary.

"Reading?" Harry cocked an eyebrow.

The two blushed immediately upon looking down George, who had come out as well.

"How long were you standing out here for?!" Ron exclaimed.

"I saw you guys snogging outside twenty-five minutes ago,"

"We weren't the _entire _time!" Hermione insisted.

"Of course not, that's ridiculous," Ron tried to flatten out his hair anxiously.

"We…we were talking a bit…for a while," She added, glancing at Ron again.

"Yeah," They made their way downstairs, still blushing. "About house-elves rights,"

Hermione nodded frantically. "For at least…er…five minutes!"

"Definitely,"

"Couple of crazy kids," George remarked, and followed them downstairs.


End file.
